


The Crash

by princessbatears



Series: The Crash Series [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternative Werewolf Lore, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28592202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessbatears/pseuds/princessbatears
Summary: When Paz makes an unfortunate miscalculation that leads to him crashing his ship on your land, you find yourself helping out the injured wolf without realizing he’s also a man.
Relationships: Paz Vizsla/Reader, Paz Vizsla/You
Series: The Crash Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095098
Comments: 28
Kudos: 70





	1. The Crash

Paz was careful when planning his atmosphere entrance to Croria, just like he is when entering any planet atmosphere with a moon or moons. He checks its orbit cycle and speed and chooses a landing area that would be day when he arrives. It always works.

Except when he’s an idiot and fat-fingers the coordinates. It’s not until his ship has entered the atmosphere and he feels the familiar prickling under his skin that he realizes he fucked up royally.

There’s only seconds to try to correct the mistake. He punches at the Furor’s controls in an attempt to redirect the ship with a hand that’s already feeling too large for his glove. His jaw pops loudly as it dislocates. Fuck fuck fuck!

It’s too late. He has to get his beskar off before the unyielding metal suffocates his changing body. He yanks his helmet off, then his gloves. How long had it been since he’s done this to himself? Five years? Ten? A long, long time.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally manages to slough off the rest of his armor. He needs to get out of his clothes off, too, but his legs buckle as they start to reshape themselves. It’s only by awkwardly throwing himself to the side that he avoids nailing his crotch on the arm of his chair.

Now on the floor, caught in an uncomfortable series of spasms as his body loses the structure of a man to become the Wolf, he’s unable to remove anything else, so he endures the indignity of his clothes splitting. That hadn’t happened to him since he was a teenager, still learning the process for transforming. He can just envision his mother saying, arms crossed, “I taught you better than this, Paz!”

The ships’s alarms are going off, their piercing sound too much for his now long, hyper-sensitive ears. Why is it so loud? He needs to turn it off, it’s killing his head, but he can’t move yet. His half-formed leg slams hard into the side of the cockpit and a snarl escapes his canid mouth.

The blaring sound seems to be getting more intense, the pitch and speed increasing. His hands and arms are finally formed and he claps his hands over his ears, flattening them to his head.

It’s probably only about a minute before he’s fully beast. As soon as he knows his bones and joints can support him, he pushes himself up to all fours and shakes his whole body to rid himself of the prickly pain.

He only has a few seconds to wonder why the alarms won’t stop before the ship collides with the ground, sending him flying into the ceiling of the cockpit and then hard onto the floor again. His head cracks against the metal and everything goes dark and silent.

\- - -

The deafening bang in the distance jolts you awake. From the barn, you can hear your flock of chickens begin to squawk and your cow snort and bellow anxiously. You rise from your bed and look out the window. It’s a cold, misty night and hard to make out anything besides the silhouette of trees. For a second, you think you dreamed it, but then you see the flicker of orange to the west. Fire.

You grab your jacket and boots and rush outside. Near the center of your homestead, you can now see a large shape and flames shooting out of it. Was it a meteor? Those usually happen in the summer, not the winter.

As quickly as you can, you hurry towards it. You’re about halfway there when you realize you should have brought some heavy blankets or something to try to contain the fire. You can’t afford for it to spread across your land and ruin the soil and destroy trees for upcoming crop season.

Deciding it’s better to see what you’re dealing with first, you keep going. As you reach the crest of a steep incline, you see that a small craft has crashed near the pond. Thankfully, the fire seems contained, but you’re concerned about whomever might be in it.

“Hello?” you shout in basic as you run to the ship. You know next to nothing about how space ships work, having lived in the boonies of Croria your whole life, but the damage seems to be minimal. The flames are already dying and nothing has exploded. “Is anyone in there? Are you hurt?”

No response.

Pulling the collar of your coat over your nose and mouth to protect yourself from the smoke, you get closer. You can see the door hatch on the left side towards the top. It’s closed, but the fire isn’t anywhere near it. Gingerly, you touch the metal exterior of the ship with the back of your hand. It’s not going to burn you, so you grab onto a ledge and begin climbing.

You’re near the top when the door opens, the ramp extending automatically towards the sky. The vibration through the ship forces you to clutch as tightly as you can until it finally stops.

To your surprise, a massive dog’s head pokes out. There’s a gash on its temple, which is oozing blood down its face. It’s so much bigger than any canine you’ve ever seen. For a second, you think it might be a loth-wolf, but, as far as you know, those are extinct.

When its shoulders and front legs appear, you’re certain this is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. The legs look like furry humanoid arms, but are extremely long and have massive five-fingered hands. The creature pushes itself up and out of the opening, its body definitely dog-like, but at least four-hundred pounds, maybe more.

“Hey!” you call softly, not wanting to startle it. It turns towards you, teeth bared in a snarl. Each one looks as big as your hand and very sharp. Your heart pounds harder. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise,” you add hastily. “I want to help.”

Its snout wrinkles slightly as it sniffs at you. You’re still several yards away, but you’re sure it has no problem gathering your scent. Hopefully, that scent will prove you’re friend, not foe.

The dog visibly relaxes,, then drags its rump and rear legs out with a soft whimper. The legs are canid, with paws the size of a small tree trunk. It settles on all fours, using its hands like feet. You notice it immediately shift its weight off the right shoulder. What species is this? Is it sentient? You decide you’d better assume so rather than risk offending it.

“Your ship’s on fire, but it seems to be contained.” You crane your neck in the direction of the flames, which are already dying down. The smoke isn’t thick enough up here to even make you cough. “Come over this way, I’ll help you down. Be careful of your head, that’s a nasty cut.”

The beast cocks its head at you for a moment. You can’t tell if it doesn’t understand your words or if it’s just assessing you.

“Do you speak basic?”

It nods, and then almost immediately shakes its head. With a loud huff, it shrugs with its good shoulder.

“I’ll take you back to my house, patch you up. Then, tomorrow, we’ll see what we can do about the ship,” you smile.

It nods again. There’s no doubt it understands you, even if it can’t speak your language.

Just as the dog alien prepares to move towards the edge of the ship that you’re on, its yellow eyes suddenly widen and it scrambles back down through the doorway.

“Hey, what are you doing?” you shout.

A moment later, it’s coming out again. Knowing that its got a bad arm, you walk carefully over to the hatch. There’s no way that you can haul it up, but maybe you can help. “I’ll help you.”

Instead of taking your proffered hand, it shoves a blue helmet into it. You frown, recognizing the design from your childhood lessons. This is a Mandalorian helmet.

“Is someone in there? Are they hurt?” You peer through the hatch into the darkness below. “I can go get medical supplies.”

But you’re gently nudged back. The dog shakes its head.

“The owner of this isn’t in there?”

Another silent no. Your heart sinks. Did the Mandalorian escape the ship before you arrived and leave its companion inside? That was a really shitty thing to do. But why not take the helmet? It was beskar, you could tell that much. The strongest metal in the universe. Why not take it for protection? 

Unless… the owner is dead and their body is inside. But why would the dog want the helmet?

It lets out a sharp cry that’s quickly stifled as it heaves its body outside again. That wounded arm really needs to be looked at. “It’s all right,” you say soothingly. “We’ll figure everything out tomorrow.”

With a short nod, it takes the helmet from you. Then, without warning, it leaps off the side of the ship to the ground. You want to cry out a warning, but it’s already landed on its rear legs without stumbling. Well, okay, then.

Once you’ve reached the earth yourself, you walk over to the dog, which stands almost eight feet tall when fully upright. “My house is over there.” You point.

It cradles its injured arm to its chest while carrying the helmet to the other as it walks. Its gait is strange, like its body isn’t intended to walk on only two legs, but it’s obvious that the creature is moving slowly so it doesn’t outpace you. You can only imagine how fast it can move when on all four.

Glancing at the blue helmet, you wonder again where its human companion is. What happened?

\- - - 

When the woman’s homestead comes into view, Paz is very relieved. He’s exhausted and in a lot of pain. More than he wants her to know. His shoulder feels torn, his head is throbbing, and he’s weak. What he needs more than anything is meat. It takes a huge amount of energy to transform. His hope is that she can feed him so he doesn’t have to spend more hunting and risk passing out.

The scent of several domestic farm animals waft towards him on the wind. How badly he wants to eat them. His stomach growls loudly.

The woman chuckles at the sound. “I’ll fix you some food.” There’s a warmth to her voice that soothes him. He’s smelled the kindness and concern on her. She means him no harm.

The house is small and he has to drop onto his good front leg to walk through the doorway. The pleasant odors of warm spices, clean linens, and freshly chopped wood greet him. Although he catches the faint whiff of others who are not her, there is nothing strong enough to indicate she lives with another person. He wonders at this, how she survives without a family on such a desolate little planet.

She immediately goes to the kitchenette and opens the conservator. A fresh whole bird sits on paper on a shelf. Paz begins salivating immediately.

“I can cut this up into parts and boil them, if you’d like? Not fancy, but it won’t take too long.” She sets the bird on the counter and pulls a large knife out of a drawer.

Limping over, he shakes his head. He grabs the fowl in his teeth, lays down on the floor, and begins to rip its body apart. The meat is savory and juicy, sliding easily down his throat and into his belly. His helmet sits forgotten nearby.

“Raw, got it.” She sounds hesitant, though, and he looks up at her face. Her brows are knit together in a frown. He’s not sure, suddenly, if she’s displeased that he’s eating this meal on her floor. Definitely should have taken it outside before chewing it up. Too late now, he supposed.

The woman grabs a dish towel, runs it under the tap, and then crouches by him. She doesn’t hover above him, which he appreciates. He hates that. “I’m going to look at your head. Is that all right?”

He nods, bones crunching between his teeth.

Her fingers are gentle as she pushes aside the sticky fur by the wound. It hurts, but he keeps the instinctive growl inside. He focuses on the thick thigh in his mouth while she washes the cut and cleans the side of his head.

“I’ve got a little bit of bacta I’ll use on that. It’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

Quickly, he puts his good front paw on her leg, shaking his head. He doesn’t want her to waste that, not when transforming back will heal him.

“It’ll only hurt a little,” she smiles, misunderstanding. “I’ll be right back.”

Paz whines, putting enough pressure on her knee to make it hard to stand. Dank farrik, why can’t he communicate with her properly? It’s obvious how little she possesses and he’s not about to let her give him more than this chicken, especially not precious medicine.

“You don’t want it?”

Again, he shakes his head.

With a sigh, she shrugs. “We’ll see how it is in the morning, I guess. Now, let me look at that shoulder.”

Before he can stop her, her hands are on his wounded shoulder. The snarl rips out of him instinctively and she quickly releases him, moving back a little. “Sorry, I should have warned you.”

He covers the inflamed spot with his free hand, giving yet another shake of his head. It’ll heal, too, she doesn’t need to mess with it.

Her heart rate had immediately elevated when he showed his teeth and he could still smell her anxiety. It hadn’t been Paz’s intention to scare her. He lowers his head, lightly nudging her arm in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture and wagging his tail.

It works because her heart and breathing slow, and she smiles. Her fingers graze lightly over his ruff. It feels nice. She continues to pet him until he’s licked every last morsel of the bird from the wood floor. It’s not as much as he usually needs, but it’ll give him the strength needed to transform back when the time comes. Now, he needs sleep.

“I’m afraid my bed isn’t big enough for you, but I’ll bring out some blankets to make the floor comfy.” She strokes the top of his head, then the base of his ears. His tail thumps automatically at how happily relaxed he feels.

Before he knows it, he’s got a nest of woven blankets around him.  
“You rest. Tomorrow, I’ll go look at your ship and see if I can do anything for your owner.” The way her eyes drift to his helmet, he knows she thinks he has a master that’s somewhere out there.

Paz offers her a toothy smile of gratitude before resting his head on the floor and closing his eyes. He’ll wake up as soon as the moon sets and go back to his ship to see how bad the damage is. Hopefully, it’ll be an easy fix and he won’t have to bother this woman again.

\- - - 

The sun hasn’t even risen when you wake the next morning, needing to go tend to your chickens and cow. You creep carefully out of your bedroom and into the main part of the house, not wanting to wake the dog. The poor thing needs its rest.

What you see in the kitchen stops you dead in your tracks, though.

A large form is buried under the blankets, but it’s definitely not as massive as the wolf. And the single bare leg that sticks out is absolutely human, not canine. What the actual fuck?


	2. The Helmet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A naked man has taken the place of the wolf you left in your kitchen.

As your brain registers the man underneath the blankets on your kitchen floor, you find yourself shouting, “Who the fuck are you?!”

There’s a startled snort and the blankets jerk as he’s awakened.

“How the hell did you get in my house?” Your eyes are on the big kitchen knife on the wall. You bolt for it and snatch it off the magnetized strip.

“I can explain,” comes a very deep, muffled voice His head is covered by the red fabric and one of his hands feels around blindly on the floor. “Just… I need the helmet. Could you pass it to me?”

This is such an odd question that you still, half-brandishing the knife. “The helmet?”

“Yeah, I need the helmet. I can’t show you my face, it goes against my Creed.” There’s a weary annoyance to his tone. “Would you give it to me?”

If he can’t come out without his helmet, he’s less likely to be able to hurt you. And, judging by the size of that bare foot and the lump you can see, he’s massive. You want him as helpless as possible until you’re sure he’s no threat.

“I’m not giving you anything until you tell me how you got in my house!”

He heaves a sigh. “You let me in. I’m a werewolf. I fucked up my entry onto this planet. Passed through the full moon’s orbit and transformed as I was trying to land. Crashed my ship. Then, you found me and brought me here. Which I’m grateful for,” he adds politely.

A real werewolf? From what you’d been taught, they’d all been hunted down and destroyed by the Empire. “I thought you were extinct.”

“Look, miss, I’m happy to answer your questions, but it’s getting real stuffy under here. Could you please give me my kriffing helmet?”

“I have a knife and will stab you if you try anything,” you warn, leaning down to pick up the helmet that’s just out of his reach.

His voice softens as he takes it from you. “I promise, I have no intention of hurting you. You showed me great kindness and I’m in your debt. Do you mind turning your back for a moment?”

You turn. “Okay.”

There’s the soft rustling of the blankets before he says, voice now altered by a modulator, “I’m covered.”

When you look at him, the blue helmet is on his head, but the base of his thick neck and huge shoulders and torso are visible. He’s unbelievably broad, with muscles that stand out, even in his relaxed position. Heat creeps up your face as you try not to imagine how big he must be in other places. What is wrong with you?

“Do you have clothes?” Nothing you have will fit him.

“They’re back on the ship.”

“I can go get them after I feed my livestock,” you offer. “You can bathe, if you want.”

The man shook his head. “You’ve done more than enough for me. I’ll make my own way, if I can bother you to borrow one of these blankets.”

“Of course. Oh! How’s your shoulder? And your head?” He wasn’t acting injured, but it was hard to tell without seeing his face.

“Fine. Most minor injuries heal when I transform.” He’s tying two corners of the blanket together at his waist. “My name’s Paz Vizsla, by the way.”

You tell him your name.

“I really do appreciate your help. If you hadn’t fed me, I’d have had trouble transforming back. I’ve got credits on the ship, I’ll bring you—”

“No,” you interrupt. “I don’t need payment. It was just a chicken.”

Paz gets to his feet, taking care not to show you too much as he does so. When he’s at his full height, his helmet nearly brushes the ceiling. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen a human this big before. But, for some reason, you’re not scared of him anymore. Nothing about him shows an intent to harm.

“I’ll be back once I assess the damage on my ship. Is there a town near here where I can get parts if I need to?”

“It’s a few days ride by orbak,” you shrug. “Do you want breakfast before you go? I’ll be making some soon.”

“No, but thank you. I’ve got rations on the ship.”

You force yourself to stop fussing and go to the front door, unlocking it. Then, you walk outside. Dawn peaks through the misty, craggy landscape.

Paz’s large, warm hand squeezes your shoulder once before he walks in the direction of his ship. It’s impressive how much dignity he manages to have in just a helmet with a blanket blowing in the wind around his calfs. Still, you can’t help chuckling as you head to do your chores.

\- - -

Paz cannot believe what a colossal mess he is. He’d promised himself he’d wake up before dawn, before the woman was up, but no—he’d slept in like a lazy ass. What is wrong with him? His mother really would scold.

Now, here he is, freezing his balls and butt off. He sure hopes this area is deserted as it seems. He will not be happy if he runs into someone.

Then, a much worse thought occurs to him. What if someone stole or stripped his ship during the night? He’d just left it out here unattended! The Wolf’s brain doesn’t think of things like that. All he thinks about was food.

He feels some relief when the silhouette of the ship appears against the rising sun. At least nobody had taken it. And, after reaching it, a quick inspection shows it hasn’t been stripped, either. This place really is lonely. How did you not go insane, he wonders, especially if the nearest town is days away?

A smile quirks his lips as he puts on the rest of his armor. The way you’d refused to give him his helmet until he gave a suitable explanation had been courageous. Foolhardy, maybe, considering he could have easily rushed you even with the blanket over his head, but he gives you points for standing your ground in your home.

The amusement quickly fades when he realizes he has some serious engine trouble. The fire from the crash destroyed the fuel line and fried several wires.

“Haar'chak!” He kicks at some charred bits of metal, then stomps back inside to eat something. All he came for was some new weapons for the covert. Now he’s going to waste days, maybe even weeks, trying to get his ship repaired so he can get to the big city.

By his calculations, he’s crashed way too far southeast in a place called the Desolates—a remote farming community that keeps mostly to itself. He can respect the self-sufficiency, but right now it is wildly inconvenient.

After eating, he trudges back to your house to return your blanket and ask you where he can rent a steed to get to the nearest civilization.

It’s warmer now that the sun is higher, and you’re crouched in front of a vegetable garden, checking each crop with a tenderness that doesn’t surprise him. You’d been so gentle with his Wolf, even when he’d snarled at you.

“I apologize for snapping at you last night,” he says by way of greeting. “The Wolf is me, but not all of me. It’s my most basic instincts.”

You look up at him with an easy smile. “You were in pain, I understand.”

He sets the folded blanket on the front step of your house. “My ship’s not able to get off the ground. Do you know someone who would rent me a steed so I can get to town.”

“I’ll loan you one if you don’t mind me tagging along. I’ve got some things to sell and buy. And I have two orbak.”

Paz studies you for a second. You don’t seem like you’d slow him down, and a guide would be helpful. “I appreciate it. But I’m going to pay.”

You pull an insect off of one of the leaves and set it on the grass. “I barter for everything I need. Your credits aren’t useful to me.”

The stubbornness you’re showing is both irritating and admirable. You really do pave your own way. “I’ll find a way to barter with you, then.”

“I’ll accept that,” you grin cheekily. “You can start by sweeping up all the fur you left on my floor. Broom’s in the closet in the kitchen.”

Paz lets out a booming laugh of surprise. “Fair enough. I’ll shake out the blankets, too.”

“It’s going to be too hot to leave now. You can stay here or go back to your ship, but either way, I’m leaving at the crack of dawn, so you’d better be ready.”

“I will be,” he says, his smile obvious in his voice. Then, he picks up the blanket and heads inside to sweep.

\- - -

Mando’a Translations:

Haar'chak - Damn it


	3. The Miscalculation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz makes an incorrect assumption about the moon cycle on your planet.

By the time dusk arrives, Paz has, frankly, stunned you by how much he’s done around your home. In addition to cleaning up any fur he left in the kitchen, he sweeps the whole house, beats the rugs, dusts, and cooks soup for supper.

“I didn’t expect you to be so useful,” you tease, returning inside to find the place more spotless than it’s been in a long time—and you’re a good housekeeper.

“You’re helping me out a lot, it’s only right I contribute. The soup’s ready if you’re hungry. I’ve already had mine,” he says.

He dishes out a large helping in a bowl. It smells incredible and you quickly begin to slurp it down. It’s after about a minute that you look up at him from your spot at the table, sheepishly wiping your chin. “Sorry, I’m not used to eating around others.”

A deep laugh rumbles through the modulator. “It’s been decades since anyone saw me eat, so I’m sure it’s far more atrocious. You’ll get no judgement from me. I take it as a compliment that you enjoy the food.”

“It’s delicious!” Creamy and just a little bit spicy, it warms your throat and belly and leaves your mouth happy.

Paz settles himself in the other chair. You hear it creak under his weight, but your father made those chairs and you know they’ll hold.

“Are you spending the night?” A part of you hopes he says yes. You find his company very enjoyable, which surprises you a little since you usually prefer your own company. But with him, you feel as at ease as if you’re alone without being so.

“I’ll head back to my ship, I think. I need to pack for the trip.”

That made sense, and you quickly comforted yourself that you’d be spending a few days together. How silly was it that you were so happy about that?

“What are you smiling about?” he asks with curious amusement.

Your face heats and you quickly slurp down more soup, not answering. The last thing you want is him suspecting you’re developing a tiny crush on him.

Mercifully, he doesn’t push. “Are there any supplies I should bring besides food and water? Do they take credits in town?”

“All the shops in town take credits. Most of the street vendors are people like me, so they barter. I’d bring things you’re willing to trade for food if you want to restock.”

He hums. “I’ll see what I can find.”

“Whatever you can’t trade for, I’ll cover and then you can pay me back in labor.” You nod approvingly at the sparkling kitchen. “My chicken coop needs a thorough scrubbing.”

Paz laughs again. It’s cut short, though, by a sharp hiss. “Fuck,” he wheezes, quickly pulling off his gloves. “How long do your full moons last?”

Your eyes widen at how his already-massive fingers are lengthening before your eyes. “Five days. Last night was just the beginning.”

He groans, shoving himself to his feet with the table. It almost topples over with the force and you grab your bowl to keep it from slipping off. Before he can say anything else, he’s stumbled out of the house.

The instinct to go after him is overwhelming, but you force yourself to stay put. He’s going to have to undress and you must respect that he won’t want to be seen.

\- - -

Even as the transformation grips Paz in the woods near your home, he’s spitting out every curse he can before speech is impossible. He hadn’t checked what the full moon lengths were on this planet because he’d very purposefully tried to avoid it altogether. However, if he had any brains (and it was becoming glaringly obvious he didn’t), he’d have asked you so he could be prepared. If this is only the second day out of five, it’s going to be a pain in the ass to travel.

Panting on his side, now in full Wolf form, Paz feels grass tickle his ear. It twitches and he paws at it. It’s getting pretty cold again. He can smell good food coming from inside your house.

“Paz?” he hears your voice calling softly from the doorway. “Are you a Wolf yet?”

He lets out a roo in affirmation, pushing himself to his feet. Thankfully, he’s not in any pain besides the emptiness in his belly. Any food he had before changing is long gone.

Padding back to the house, he grins at you. Your worry gives way to relief, a sweetness mixing with the sweat of a hard day’s work and mild anxiety. He bumps his head reassuringly against your hip. Your fingers caress his ruff. They feel nice.

His stomach growls loudly. “Hungry again?” you ask. “I can go kill another chicken.”

There’s no need since he’s not injured. He shakes his head, then swipes the air with his claws, hoping to indicate that he’s going to go hunt something himself.

“Please don’t kill anything with a paddock around it,” you say earnestly. “Anything outside is wild, but our people need their livestock.”

With a solemn nod, he vows to not hurt anything that he isn’t sure is wild. Then, he darts off into the trees.

It doesn’t take long to find a large piece of game. It even gives Paz a good chase, able to lope across the uneven terrain better than he can. He gets it in the end, though, and gorges himself. The more nights he transforms in a row, the more food he’ll need to keep up his strength.

Once he’s done and washed his paws and muzzle in a little stream, he makes his way back to your house, following your scent. He likes being with you, you’re safe and kind, you have such a pretty face and fingers that are good at petting. His heartbeat is extra strong near you.

Gently, he scratches at your front door when he reaches it and whines softly. It opens a crack and then you’re smiling at him. He beams toothily at you.

“Want to come in?” You’re already stepping aside for him, though, knowing the answer.

He pads in and flops down on the floor near the crackling fireplace with a contented sigh, belly very full.

Your hands are on his head again, then his back. He senses your concern, realizing you’re looking for wounds. He nuzzles your wrist, hoping you understand he’s just sleepy.

“You’ll have to shake these out again,” you smirk as you create a nest of blankets around him.

He’ll do anything you ask of him, he knows this even as he’s falling into the blissful blackness after a great hunt.

It’s only later when he’s awakened by the sound of metal clinking together. He peels his heavy eyes open and sees you carrying a sack slung over your back. You went to retrieve his armor, which he’d left thoughtlessly in the woods.

Blearily, he starts to get up to help, but you say, “It’s not as heavy as it looks,” as you set the sack carefully in the corner. Then, you pull out his helmet and place it on the floor next to him with care. “I’m going to make a lot of noise before I come out in the morning, so I don’t see anything I shouldn’t.”

There’s a smell coming from you that immediately has him more awake. Arousal. His own heart quickens with desire. You want him, at least, his human form.

But you’re already bustling to lock the door and close down the house for the night. “Sleep well, Paz,” you smile and then shut yourself in your little bedroom.

With a moan, he lays his head back down. It takes him a long, long time to get back to sleep.


	4. The Admission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As you and Paz begin your journey, he asks a question that embarrasses you.

For once, luck is on Paz’s side and he doesn’t immediately fall back asleep after returning to his human form. He wants to, so warm and full, but then he remembers you want to leave early.

Forcing himself to exit the cozy nest of blankets, he begins to dress himself. Even if his eyes couldn’t penetrate the darkness, he’d know every piece of his armor from feel alone.

He’s about to scoop up the blankets to shake off outside when you knock loudly on the inside of the bedroom door. “Can I come out?”

“I’m up and dressed,” he calls before unlocking the front door and stepping out onto the porch. The pre-dawn air is cool and a breeze quickly sweeps the bits of hair away.

The scent of your arousal floods his memory, unbidden. He tries to force it away, feeling like he’s somehow violated your privacy, even though it was unintentional. And remembering also makes his heart pound and his cock ache with a desire that matches your own.

When he’s done with the blankets and under control of his hormones again, he heads inside. You’re in the kitchen with your back to him, heating up leftover soup. “Hungry?”

Paz’s voice gets stuck in his throat and he has to clear it. “No, but thank you. My kill last night was substantial.”

“I’ll eat quick, then, and we can stop by your ship on the way to get your supplies.” You turn with a smile, eyes bright and warm, and every other thought falls out of his head.

He just stands there, staring.

“Are you all right?” You pour the soup into a bowl as you ask, sounding both amused and concerned. “Is this too early after moonset to be up?”

“No, I’m just making a mental list of what I need to grab,” he lies, silently warning himself to stop being a di’kut. The last thing he needs to do is to make this trip unnecessarily uncomfortable by coming onto you. Thankfully, you can’t see his face so he doesn’t have to worry about his expression.

You don’t even bother sitting down, choosing to drink the soup straight from the bowl while you lean against the counter. “You sure you don’t want any?”

He grins, loving the way you’ve so quickly given up on table manners around him. “If I get hungry later, I’ll eat some rations.”

With a shrug, you continue gulping.

“What are you doing about your animals while you’re gone?” he asks.

“My nearest neighbors and I always take care of each other’s homesteads when the other goes into town. I told him last night I was leaving, so he’ll tend to them.”

You really do have everything handled. His mother would approve.

Before he knows it, Paz is sitting atop a cream-colored orbak while you ride the brown one. Yours is carrying your bag of clothes and food, as well as cheese, eggs, and produce to barter with. He’s eager to see you in action.

He, too, has supplies hanging off his saddle, including food for himself, credits for purchasing parts, and spare medical supplies and old tools to barter with. You reassure him that such things will get him whatever he wants with the locals.

“Have you always lived out here?” he asks as you two leave his crippled ship behind and head northwest. If you’re going to spend a few days together, might as well get to know each other a little bit.

“Born and raised,” you smile. “The farm’s been in my family for generations. I’m the only one left, so it’s in my hands now. I’m hoping I can really fix the place up and help the land thrive better, like it did in my grandparents’ generation. Between issues in my own family and the influx of off-worlders, things have declined over the last thirty years.”

“As long as you stop taking in stray werewolves, you might have a chance,” he jokes.

“Or perhaps I need to keep taking them in because they do such a good job cleaning and cooking,” you retort.

There it is, that easy, playful exchange. And it suddenly hits him how rare it is. Usually, no one’s comfortable around him—and that’s by design. He likes being intimidating to strangers, both as a Mandalorian and as a Wolf. But, with the exception of you being naturally alarmed at a giant man suddenly appearing in your home, you haven’t been scared of him.

“Why don’t you have a life partner to help you?”

The question makes you stiffen. “Because I don’t need one!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. You’re obviously more than capable, but it’s hard work.”

Your shoulders slump as your face falls in embarrassment. “I can’t find one,” you say so quietly he almost doesn’t catch it.

Shame and loneliness waft off you, and he feels angry and protective. What fools wouldn’t see you as a gift? “Among my people, a woman like you would be fought over. Your generous heart, determined nature, and courage are all prized qualities.”

You laugh awkwardly. “I’m not a fighter.”

“You don’t have to fight to be brave.”

“Do you have a life partner?”

Paz shakes his head. “I have no riduur. I guess you could also say I can’t find one,” he chuckles.

You give him such a look of shock that he grins, once again grateful for the helmet. “You can’t find one? You? But you’re…” Quickly, you trail off, eyes now pointedly forward.

Although he wants to tease you, he won’t. Not after such a vulnerable admission. Instead, he says solemnly, “Being with a werewolf isn’t easy. Things are better now the Empire isn’t hunting us actively, but few women want to take the risk, especially since their offspring may carry the gene, too.”

You hum softly, sympathetically.

“There’s also the small matter that my Wolf hasn’t found a partner that he considers suitable. Even if I like the woman, he can’t give himself to her and that’s… problematic.”

“I thought you said the Wolf is still you. Why do you talk about him like he’s separate?”

Paz wonders how to word this. “When I’m the Wolf, my rational self ceases to exist. In some ways, that makes what’s left of me feel like a different person. Or perhaps that it’s more that the Wolf has no ego, only base feelings and needs. Sometimes I wonder if he’s more me than the human side is.”

“He’s your intuitive spirit part, maybe?”

“Maybe. It’s hard to explain.”

You sigh wistfully. “I wish I could let my spirit run wild like that.”

\- - -

It’s nearly sunset. “We should look for a place to camp,” you tell Paz. You’d heard stories all your life about bandits attacking people and stealing their animals and belongings. Your own uncle had nearly been beaten to death on this road when you were a child.

“I’ll be shifting soon, too,” he says, head tilted towards the sky.

“There’s a spot near here that I usually camp at. Thick tree cover and I’ve never been bothered by any wild animals.” Although you doubt that’d be a problem with a werewolf around.

You turn off the road and head into the forest. The orbaks don’t love traveling in the woods, finding it cumbersome, but, with patience, you direct them towards your favorite spot.

To your distress, however, you notice signs of deforestation coming from the north. You pass a lumber mill that hadn’t been there a couple months before when you’d last gone to town. “Someone new bought this land.”

“You didn’t know?” he asks softly.

“I hadn’t heard about it. I’m afraid my spot isn’t going to even be there.”

You’re right, the whole place is cleared. Your heart aches as you see the wreckage of this once thriving wilderness.

“I’m sorry,” Paz says, a hand reaching out to brush your shoulder.

You want to cry, but you swallow down the tears. “We’ll find somewhere else.”

The sun is almost behind the horizon, though. “We’re going to have to hurry. I have about fifteen minutes, I think.”

Although backtracking isn’t ideal, it’s the only choice you two have to get under tree cover again. You barely find a decent spot in a little clearing before Paz is shedding his blue beskar. A large, strong foot attached to a muscled calf is all you allow yourself to observe before you turn your back to build a fire.

“I’ll return,” he growls and disappears into the trees.

For some reason, you feel very uneasy as you wait for him to return. Despite the flames in front of you, the darkness feels oppressive. This isn’t the area you’re used to. You don’t know what lurks beyond your line of sight. Hoots, rustles, squeaks, and grumbles create a forbidding ambience.

Then, the orbaks, who were grazing contentedly, begin to moan nervously, their hooves digging into the ground like they’re about to bolt. You’ve tied them, though, so they can’t go anywhere.

Hand resting on the blaster on your hip, you peer through the dimness. Nothing. Maybe they can smell Paz and it’s unsettled them. Yes, that’s probably it, you try to reassure yourself. He’s heading back from his hunt.

Despite the orbaks’ restlessness, you force yourself to eat some rations. As soon as Paz gets back, you’re going to hunker down for the night. It’s cold and you’re tired from a long day of travel.

A crash in the brush has you on your feet, blaster out now. “Paz?” you call. “Is that you? If it’s not you, I’m shooting, so you’d better bark!”

That’s when something bashes you in the side of the head so hard that you immediately lose consciousness.

\- - -

Mando’a Translations:

Di’kut - idiot  
Riduur - spouse


End file.
